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Light halos what he did last night in the form of his coworker Jesse Mills. He shouldn’t be surprised really, this happens every time he gets drunk (which has happened more and more of recent). Charlie rubs his eyes as flashes of last night fight for dominance in his mind; some of Jesse’s smile over the rim of his glass and some of pushing that smile into the pillow so he didn’t have to confront what he was doing.
Jesse shuffles quietly beside him so Charlie closes his eyes against what he knows to be the most adorable bedhead. He doesn’t normally wake first, allowing his tryst partner to leave without the disastrous consequences of awkward smiles and stuttered sentences.
As Jesse wakes, Charlie feels him slip out from beneath the covers. His hairs raise as he listens to him tiptoeing around the bedroom picking up his discarded clothes. Once he’s out of the room, Charlie exhales a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in. He hears the faint sound of kibble hitting Rex’s bowl and the soft mutterings of a farewell before the door shuts and he’s alone. Then he realises… Rex has been getting two breakfasts almost every Saturday for months.
It’s not clear whether he started drinking alcohol more frequently because he was fucking Jesse or because he wanted to keep fucking Jesse. The lines blurred around the fourth time the younger man shared Charlie’s Lyft and they got out at the same address. Ever since, he’s come like a puppy to a whistle, leaving with his tail between his legs in the morning.
The worst part is, Jesse is an impeccable actor at work. If his flat didn’t still smell of Gucci Guilty when he drops his keys in the bowl in the evening then he could even convince himself nothing happened. Charlie, on the other hand, is less subtle about it. So much so that his coworkers have started asking about his new floozy; Jesse always ducks out of the room while he blushes and stutters through denials.
It’s a Friday night the next time Charlie has Jesse held tight in his drink-laden arms while they kiss on his sofa. That is until the smaller man leans back and doesn’t return.
His face is pinched, eyebrows furrowed as he says, “Charlie, I… I can’t do this anymore.”
Charlie blinks slowly while his drunken brain tries to comprehend what that means.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Then he gets up on wobbly feet and heads towards the door.
“What are you doing?” Charlie’s vision swims in front of him but panic propels him towards Jesse until he stumbles and they both fall against the door.
Jesse lets out a panicked gasp but remains calm. “Let me go. I don’t want this.”
“What? Why?” Nothing makes sense other than sitting and kissing Jesse.
“Just let me go!” Jesse snaps as he tries to worm his way out of Charlie’s unrelenting grip.
“Why though? We were having a great time.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” At Charlie’s perplexed expression, he continues. “Every day I wish you were mine. Every single fucking day. It’s exhausting.”
Rex makes his appearance, forcing his body between the two men, leaning against Jesse to comfort him. He stares Charlie down making chills rack his body.
“I didn’t…” Charlie starts but trails off as he gets dizzier and his vision fuzzy. “It wasn’t meant to be this way.”
“Then how, Charlie, huh?” Jesse snaps, crossing his arms. “Was I just supposed to play along until you felt comfortable being gay enough to find someone better?”
“I’m not gay!”
Sure, he’d sometimes find men very attractive and when he was younger he even felt things for boys that were akin to crushes. That doesn’t mean he’s gay; he’s felt those things for women too.
“Your dick in my arse says different.”
Bile rushes up Charlie’s throat. “Fuck off then!”
Jesse slams the door behind him but Charlie spots his phone on the table. He leaves it to lay his heavy head on the sofa.
When he wakes the next morning, he finds himself lying on the sofa with a pillow and a blanket covering him as well as paracetamol and water on the table next to him. Phone gone. He curses, turns over and goes back to sleep.
Charlie manages a week before drinking himself stupid. Work had been tough and seeing Jesse, tougher. He needs a stress reliever and historically that has come in the form of a gorgeous, bespectacled, young man.
“Charlie?” He picks up almost immediately, too fast for divine intervention to prevent the older man from embarrassing himself again. “You okay?”
“You… you should come over.”
There is a pause and a sigh. “Charlie. I told you. ‘m not doing this anymore.”
“C’mon,” He draws out, hoping to wheedle his way back to Jesse. “We had so much fun together.”
“No, you had fun. I’m not being your— your plaything anymore!”
That stings. The fact Jesse thinks that’s his entire use to Charlie, his purpose only to please him.
“Jesse… please?”
“No, Charlie. Sober up. I’ll see you at work.”
He hangs up. The silence leaves Charlie the sole occupier of a dark apartment with an empty bottle of whisky.
After that, Jesse’s acting skills crumble. He avoids Charlie at all costs, even taking most of his annual leave over the weeks after. Donovan is compelled to confront Charlie about it.
After a particularly terse and prickly conversation between Charlie and Jesse, Donovan approaches. They both watch as Jesse storms off.
“What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing!” He says instinctively. He clears his throat and tries again. “Nothing. Nothing is going on.”
Donovan squints his eyes at him. “Then why is he avoiding you?”
He is met by a nonchalant shrug.
“You’re a terrible liar, Detective Hudson,” He says. “Fix it. Whatever it is.”
Charlie nods but winces inside. Easier said than done.
That evening Charlie intends to do what he does best: investigate. His hands hover over the keyboard as he types, deletes then retypes the same question. When he finally plucks up the courage to press enter, the doorbell rings. He slams his laptop shut and a thought of ‘oh no it’s the cops’ flies through his mind for a moment before he shakes it out.
When he opens the door to see his neighbour he is bright pink. “Hi.”
“Hello,” She says. A pleasant woman in her early seventies who, as far as he knows, lives alone. “Terribly sorry to bother you, Charles, but could you help me move a heavy box into the living room please?”
Charlie ducks his head, feeling caught. “Of course, Iris, lead the way.”
As they walk into Iris’ place, she explains, “I’m feeling a bit nostalgic, you see, it would have been my wife and I’s anniversary today.”
“Wife?” Charlie asks incredulously.
“She died a few years ago.” She leads Charlie to a cupboard and points at a large box tucked at the back. “Breast cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs and smiles gratefully. “Life is what it is and that box is full of it.”
It’s easy to forget that gay people have always been around and they grow up when they seem invisible to society. It had never occurred to him that someone who lives so close to him could be that way inclined.
Charlie bargains the box out of the cupboard and follows Iris into the living room, placing it down in the middle of the floor. They settle down with mugs of tea on the couch and let time get away from them.
It’s an hour later, Rex has made his way into Iris’ apartment while Charlie and Iris share wine and stories. Something stronger was needed when tears trickled down Iris’ face when looking at their wedding photo.
“How…” Charlie starts, unsure how to broach the question in his mind. “How did you know?”
“What? She was the one?”
Charlie pauses and mumbles, “How did you know a she was the one?”
Iris places her hand over Charlie’s, warmth radiating from her slight fingers. “Oh Charles, I don’t mean to be a busybody but does this have anything to do with the young man who has been frequenting your place?”
Charlie stills under her hand and gaze, panic rushing through him in waves. “N—no.”
“Okay then,” Iris says even though they both know it is all about the young man frequenting his place. “I guess I felt different when I saw a pretty woman compared to a handsome man. When I met my wife I knew I would be with her forever because she made me feel most like myself.”
Charlie opens his mouth to reply but falls short, finding he doesn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Rex saves him with a whine. Charlie stands. “That’s my cue to leave. Our evening walk is calling.”
“It was lovely to chat, you should come over more often.” Iris smiles. “And I hope you work things out with your man.”
Charlie chokes and just about manages a smile before shutting the door behind him and Rex.
Over the next week, Charlie compiles the evidence of his queerness with quizzes and introspection. He settles for bisexual, forming the word in his mouth until it’s no longer a whisper.
The first person he comes out to is Iris. They're sitting on her sofa, catching up on the building gossip, and he tries. He really does but words fail him and a rock settles in his stomach.
“You can tell me anything, you know,” Iris says even though the twinkle in her eyes suggests she knows what he’s trying to say.
“Yeah. I don’t know why this is so hard.” He chuckles to smother his frustration.
He’s done a lot of things in his life but this is the hardest? He sinks his fingers into Rex’s fur for comfort, and with the conviction of a desperate man he blurts, “I’m not straight!”
Iris smiles, cheeks rosy with mirth. “Hi, not straight, I’m Iris.”
“Oh my God, that’s it. Rex, we’re leaving!” Charlie laughs off the pressure that built up in his chest.
“Come on, Charles, my wife loved my jokes. It’s practically a right of ‘not straight’ passage.”
“Oh, I bare my soul to you and now you’re making fun of me? I’m never coming over again.”
Iris hums, “Next time, bring your man!”
“He’s not my man!” Charlie yells from the doorway.
“Not yet!” Iris replies, just before the door closes.
It’s a month later when Charlie barely has a moment to unlock the door before it’s swung open, smashing into the wall behind it. Jesse falls into his arms and kisses him as deeply as he can manage.
They stumble backwards into the wall behind them, somewhere along the way there’s a thud of Jesse’s messenger bag dropping to the floor. Before he has time to register any of what is going on, he’s being snogged out of his mind and Jesse’s hands are all over him, touching, grabbing. He gets a mouthful of teeth when he opens his mouth to try and talk so he grabs his shoulders and pushes him away.
“Jesse, what—“
“I can do it! I’ll be your dirty little secret. I don’t care I just need you.”
He’s never seen a man look more desperate. Shiny eyes, wet pout and completely flushed. He wouldn’t be surprised if he saw the man begging on his knees any minute now.
“No, Jess, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do! I do. It’s been weeks, I need you like— like fucking air.” He sobs.
Jesse forces himself closer to Charlie so that he can touch as much of him as possible. Squeezing his shoulders, pushing their chests together. He gently grabs Charlie’s face to hold his gaze.
“Please, I need you.”
Charlie splutters, trying to find the right words when Jesse chokes and races through his apartment in the direction of the bathroom, stumbling and tripping as he goes. Charlie catches a glimpse of Iris’ concerned face peeking out her doorway so he smiles in what he hopes is reassurance, closes the door and finds Jesse.
The smaller man is a sorry sight, on his knees, hunched over the toilet chucking his guts up. Charlie kneels beside him and rubs his back. When Jesse lifts his head, Charlie carefully takes his glasses off his face and places them on the counter. He manages this just before Jesse’s head is in the toilet again so he returns to rubbing his back and cooing at him.
Jesse sits back, slumping against the wall with his face in his hands. “I—I threw up.”
“I know, bug, it’s okay.” Charlie stretches his stiff limbs so he can reposition himself with crossed legs. “You’re okay.”
A minute passes in silence. “Why did you come here, Jess?”
He sighs and remains non-responsive for so long Charlie starts to doubt he heard him. “I need you to say you love me, even if you don’t mean it.”
The words hit Charlie in the face like a sucker punch. “I’m not going to do that.”
“I guess sex is out of the question.” He gestures at himself and where he’s got spatters of his own vomit on his shirt.
“It was out of the question the second you said you didn’t want to.” Charlie sighs. “In fact, it should have been out of the question before it started.”
At this, Jesse lunges towards him and grasps his shoulders. “Don’t give up on me! Please, I can do this!”
“Let’s talk about this in the morning. For now, you need to brush your teeth and get into some clean clothes.”
Charlie stands and takes Jesse under his arms to haul him up and set him on the edge of the bath. He breaks open a new packet of toothbrushes, puts some toothpaste on one and hands it to the younger man who takes it and lazily moves it around his mouth. Charlie leaves to get him some of his pyjamas. Rex stays with Jesse; there’s no question about to who his allegiance is.
Charlie’s making toast when Jesse wobbles into the kitchen to join him. He lowers himself to sit on the floor. Then when Charlie turns around to give him his buttered toast, he has his cheek pressed against the floor tile.
“Comfy down there?”
Smiling, Jesse hums his assent and slurs slightly, “Cold.”
For a moment when Charlie wakes up, he feels sick to his stomach at the sight of Jesse next to him. His mind starts up an attack, personally writing his damning diatribe. But he doesn’t feel hungover. Plus, they both have clothes on… oh yeah.
Jesse wakes in a panic and Charlie watches him, barely out of sleep himself. That is until he starts mumbling to himself about how he ‘did it again’ and he slips out of bed.
“Where are you going?” The words slip from his mouth before he even realises he’s going to say something.
That man in question freezes in his sneaking position, somewhat resembling a gremlin. The cutest gremlin Charlie has ever seen. He turns to look towards the bed, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
“What happened last night?”
“I’ll explain over breakfast.”
They decide to go out for breakfast to escape from the lingering stench of vomit and regret. Plus, Charlie doesn’t have much in the terms of food after being distracted all week with his personal research.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie says when they’re situated in a secluded corner of the cafe with a fry-up each in front of them.
Jesse blinks at him under the hood of one of Charlie’s jumpers. On the way here he borrowed his Tom Cruise Risky Business sunglasses, looking like an adorable douche.
“What for?”
“Everything. I took advantage of you, used you and I…” He chokes on the guilt lodged in his throat. “I’m so sorry about everything.”
Jesse reaches a hand over and places it on Charlie’s where he’s limply holding his knife. “It’s okay. I’m not innocent in all this and I’m sorry for what happened last night… whatever it is that did happen.”
“You turned up at mine drunk, kissed me, threw up a bunch and you said…” Charlie scratches the back of his head, debating whether he needs to tell him.
Jesse groans, sliding his hand back across the table and Charlie looks at him, startled. “I fucked up our friendship completely, didn’t I?”
“Not at all. You basically told me you’d… still be my plaything if I wanted you to be.”
Jesse winces. “I didn't mean— I’m not like that—I…”
“I’m bi,” Charlie blurts before he can hear any more of Jesse’s excuses.
Jesse’s face morphs into a pleasant surprise. “Took you long enough.” He says that even though there is insecurity beneath it.
Charlie rolls his eyes and nudges Jesse’s leg with his foot under the table.
“And—and I like you. A lot. I’d like to take you on a proper date if you’d let me?”
“Wait. Really?”
“Yeah but if you don’t want to that’s fine! After the way I’ve treated you—“
“A date sounds great!” Excitement thrums under his skin. “So long as there’s no alcohol, I think we’re done with that for now.”
Charlie breathes a sigh of relief. “Anything you want. Anything at all.”
It’s gonna be novel, going on a date with a man. Let alone, the most gorgeous man to walk on the face of the earth. That’s a lot of pressure.
“Is next Saturday good for you?” Charlie blurts.
Both men blink in shock at each other. Neither expecting those words to fall from his lips. He can’t find it in himself to regret it when a smile breaks out over Jesse’s face.
“Yeah, that works just fine.”
Sun from the window backlights him. This time, his halo fills Charlie with hope.